


A New World

by AngelFace273



Series: Just a Little Change, and Digging a Little Deeper, In a Whole New World [3]
Category: Disney Animated Fandoms, Disney Princesses, Pocahontas (1995)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelFace273/pseuds/AngelFace273
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pocahontas and John Smith have become Amonute and Jane Smith</p><p>*A continuously updated series of one-shots set in genderbended universes of the Disney Princesses. You will find here snippets of some scenes, reimaginings of others, and a look into some that were missing. Irregular updates. Requests are welcomed, but not guaranteed a chapter.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New World

**Author's Note:**

> This is the moment they met.
> 
> Warning: Jane Smith has some racist ideas about Native Americans in this. This does not reflect my personal views on Native Americans at all. In the movie, John says things about the "savages" that are rude if not straight up racist, so Jane also shares those views. We all know that those views will change, and that John only saw things that way because that was what he was taught. Still, if anything said in this story offends anyone at all, you have my sincerest apologies.

Captain Jane Smith carefully climbed down the rocks that lead to the water’s edge, relieved to be able to get away from the ship. If the new worlds she got to visit and the strange lands she could learn about weren’t worth all the fuss and nonsense that came with being the only woman on a vessel full of men, she would’ve called the whole adventuring business quits by now.

 _I suppose it’s not all bad_ , she mused as she took off her helmet and crouched down next to the water, adjusting her skirt in the process. _When they can forget my sex, some of the men are fairly fun and decent folk._

Jane Smith had spent the first voyages of her sailing career disguised as a man by the name of **John** Smith. By the time the truth of her identity came out, she had already made a well-known name for herself, almost becoming a legend among the ships of His Majesty’s Navy. While some officers and nobles demanded her arrest for her “gall and indecency”, or at least her dismissal, King James allowed her to keep her position, as well as allowing her to sail under her own name.

And now she was in another New World, under her own name and rather fantastical reputation, in a comfortable combination of armor and a modified travelling dress, with her faithful gun at her side, and about to cool her warmed face.

 _Now if I can just keep young Thomas’ hero worship from turning into a crush,_ she thought as she cupped her hands and brought fresh cool water to her face. _And find a way to politely tell that fat Ratcliffe to go jump off a cliff–_

Her thought process froze, and so did the rest of her, when she noticed something within the water in her hands. Though it was a little faint, and rather blurry, Jane could clearly see the outline of a person in the reflection of the trees above her.

Instantly, her mind flashed to the other lands she had helped colonize and civilize in the past. Of the natives and savages who had attempted to resist the ways and teachings of England. Then she remembered the reports of the explorers who had discovered this particular land, the stories of people who could hide in darkness effortlessly, attack without warning, then melt into the forest and vanish without a trace.

_Indians._

With forced casualness, Jane splashed the water on her face as she had intended, but now she also kept her ears peeled for any sound behind her and tried to make as little noise as possible. As quietly and swiftly as she could without raising suspicion, the Captain stood with her helmet back on her head and her rifle tight in her grasp and hopped along the boulders in the water.

These Indian savages were a danger to any of the crew of the _Susan Constant_ , but to Jane Smith, as a woman, they were twice as such. She had heard plenty of horror stories of women in other colonies who were captured by natives, and she had no desire to become one of them. All she needed was a place to hide and prep her weapon, and to draw out her prey…

As she drew closer to the waterfall, she just barely spotted a small ledge behind it. _That’ll do._ In one fluid movement, Jane leaped from her rock, through the falling water, and on the ledge, ending in a crouch that faced the opposite direction. And there she waited, just barely blinking or breathing, for a sign of life on the other side of the water.

Slowly, almost painfully so, a dark and blurry shape began to appear. It came closer and closer to her hiding place, and finally the Captain could see that it was definitely human. Keeping one eye on that shape, Jane quietly prepped her rifle, using her helmet to shield the flint from the water.

At last, with a silent prayer for victory, Jane Smith jumped out of the waterfall, planted herself on a boulder, aimed her gun at her adversary, and froze.

Like something out of a fairy tale, the mists that separated the two parted and revealed a tall, lithe, brown-skinned man standing in front of her, his long black hair (longer and darker than she had ever seen on anyone, much less a man) flying like a flag in the wind.

He didn’t wear much in the way of clothing, just deerskin cloth wrapped around his waist and tossed over one shoulder – and the tiny part of Jane that was still a proper English lady squeaked in shock at the sight of the man’s bare chest (it did not help that he was rather fit). The only other adornments he wore were a blue pendant, a peculiar red tattoo on his arm like an armband, and a feather headband holding back his long black hair that looked smooth as silk. What truly captured her attention though, was something else entirely.

When Jane took a moment to think about the rumored savages of this New World, she imagined dark-skinned figures in a perpetual crouch, teeth bared and blood streaked across faces and arms in ritualistic patterns, and above all: cold eyes filled with mindless hate – this was the picture drawn by the stories of those who had caught glances of the Indians.

The man that stood before her now looked nothing like this. He stood tall and proud, as still as a statue, and his eyes were far from cold and hateful, mindless or otherwise; instead they held an intensity directed solely on her, as well as wariness with a hint of fear.

Jane didn’t fully realize she had lowered her rifle until her arms were already at her sides. Feeling a great pull between herself and the man before her, she couldn’t help but draw closer to him, slowly setting her gun down on the ground and stepping in the water to close the distance between them, his eyes never breaking away from hers. The whole thing felt so surreal, like a dream, and she couldn’t help reaching a hand out to touch and confirm his existence.

Unfortunately, this broke the spell that had been cast over the two of them. The man blinked at her hand, and then he was gone. With a sudden and unexpected burst of speed, he ran off into the trees.

“Wait!” Jane cried, startled. Struggling with her skirt a bit, she scrambled out of the water and took off after him. She was just barely able to keep the man in sight; he ran faster than anyone she had ever seen, with a grace and nimbleness the Captain envied. The brambles and branches didn’t seem to hinder him at all, even with his bare feet, whereas the entire forest seemed determined to slow her down and trip her up. At last, they came to a clearing by a river, and Jane finally managed to catch up as the man climbed into a canoe and made to leave.

“Wait, please!” she called again as the man grabbed a paddle and started to push off. “Don’t go!” This time, he paused and turned back at her. His face was still wary, but there was less fear now. Jane halted a few steps away from the boat and slow put her empty hands up; the last thing she needed was to spook him again. “Look,” she said quietly, as if to a frightened animal. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man looked at her a little side-eyed, but slowly took his paddle out of the water. Encouraged, Jane took a few slow steps closer and held out her hand. “I just want to talk. Come on out?”

He tilted his head and looked confused. “ _Mata que, na torath,_ ” he said, shaking his head. Jane could’ve kicked herself.

“You don’t understand a single word I’m saying, do you?” she sighed and slumped her shoulders. At least the man was relaxed now; he seemed to find her woebegone expression amusing, if his brief chuckling was any indication. “Well, at least I’m entertaining,” she told him with a wry smile. Absentmindedly, she noted that he had a nice laugh, and she wouldn’t mind hearing it more.

She crouched down to be at eye-level with him and held out her hand again. “Please come out?” she asked. He glanced between her face and her hand hesitantly for a moment, then finally put his hand in hers.

Considering the draw she felt to him from the moment they met, Jane half-expected chills when they finally touched. What happened instead left her in awe: the moment he gently grasped her hand, a great warmth spread from her fingertips to the rest of her body. Her entire soul seemed to breathe a great sigh of content, and the wind suddenly picked up around their joined hands. Her eyes never left his as she gently pulled him and the canoe back to shore, even when he stepped out of the boat and they both stood up. Neither seemed inclined to release the other’s hand.

The wind picked up more, blowing both of their hair into the air, and the entire world ceased to exist except the pair of them. Standing so close now, Jane was surprised to find that he seemed to dwarf her a little, despite her own formidable height and muscle – she even had to look up slightly at him. He looked a little awed himself, and his dark eyes seemed to be looking deep into her very heart and soul.

Jane, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to understand, whispered “Who are you?”

The man closed his eyes, as if searching for an answer. Then, after a long moment, he opened his eyes again and breathed “Amonute.”

Jane blinked, unsure. Had he just answered her? “What did you say?” she asked, feeling that same surrealism from the waterfall.

The man – _Amonute?_ – smiled at her, and the Captain could swear that she had never seen anything as beautiful. “My name,” he told her, and though his lips still appeared to be speaking that strange language from before, Jane could hear his velvet-like voice speaking clear English in her ear, “is Amonute.”

Her heart felt like it was about to burst as she returned that smile, just as blinding. “I’m Jane Smith,” she replied. They were still holding hands. Neither seemed to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I LIIIIIIVVEEE!!!!!!
> 
> I am so sorry about my absence. I have long stretches of writer's block. I have been working on this for so long, you would not believe. Hopefully (and I really really really hope that I don't jinx myself) I should have a couple more stories done in the next few days.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please don't hesitate to ask questions or leave comments/critiques.


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